Yaron London and Meir Shalev (yes)
Meir Shalev's death left in our lives countless white pages that will never be filled with words, but also a real wealth of life, in those pages that he managed to write, and give us.
There were descriptions of nature that get you off the couch for a walk and a love of plants, a healthy perspective on the Bible and an equally healthy perspective on love and relationships, passion and sex. And there was also food
. Either his love for a woman, should serve the book or is it something that should characterize a certain hero," Lehdar Makob Hasson told about six months ago in the "Reading Kitchen" blog about the inspiration from personal family experiences, "I remember my mother would make a salad in a big bowl, and everyone would Takes it down to a plate.
Everyone got the same salad, but at every meal I would ask to eat some of my mother's plate because it had a different taste."
Shalu's rich Hebrew did not overlook one of the most important things we have, went deep into the plates and bowls, built magnificent sandwiches and tempted with sweets, and above all succeeded in doing the rarest of rare things - making readers put down a book they don't want to put down, and go eat something.
now.
Here are some of those delicious words.
"When I need a wall between me and the world": the story of Salad Dachshund
"Food, serve only on a white plate. Drink, pour only in a glass, without color. There are rules about these things, if you see a restaurant with candles, you must not enter there. Candles are not for romance, it is a sign that the cook has something he wants to hide."
(Russian novel)
"The cultural world becomes poor with his departure"
Artists and statesmen flock to his Meir
To the full article
"She took Michael to the kitchen, and with a wooden spoon made him taste the water in which the almonds were soaked. With the pressure of a finger and thumb, she stripped them of their brown skin, and laid them to dry on her special, white and soft Masapan towel, which is washed only in rainwater and hung to dry only in the shade.
"Then she ground them with my husband and in a mortar, with soft, circular strokes, and every now and then she stopped and mumbled the grains, and tested their contact with the wisdom of her old fingers, because the masapan is not only a taste, but also a texture, and its sensation, as it rolls between the palate and the tongue, is just as important as its taste.
Without resorting to scales, she poured the same amount of sugar into the pot, added a little of the almond water and put it on the fire.
Now she took the boy's hand and together they left the kitchen to contemplate the melting of the sugar.
"Dudoch knows how to return to the sugar solution the moment before the real punto... At one time we shouted 'punto de Massapan!'
And Duduch pours in the ground almonds and turns off the heat, puts the pot down on the floor, kneels down and vigorously stirs and stirs and stirs and places the masapan on the marble to cool" (
Eso)
Delicious words.
His (photo: Niv Aharonson)
"A couple who really loves never eat too much. If you see a couple in a restaurant who eat too much, you will know that they hate, that they want to kill each other by eating, and above all they fill their stomachs so that they have an excuse not to go to bed together afterwards" (
Kimim some)
"I got up from my place, boiled water in a pot and cracked two eggs into the palm of my hand. I broke my fingers and let the egg whites slide between them into the sink. I stirred and beat the yolks with the sugar and the wine. "Without stopping even for a moment, I placed the bowl on the pot of boiling water and continued like this for another
two subtlety.
The yolks warmed up, absorbed the wine and their own liquids, turned into a smooth whipped cream, and all at once the rich scent of the zavivone rose in the air.
When I finished sucking my finger, I got up and slid my tongue over my upper teeth from right to left and left to right sweet sweet sweet sweet sweet"
(a few days)
The perfect sandwich.
His (Photo: Yoav Itiel)
"He placed the loaf of bread on a board, which he brushed off the dust with mouth-blows and vigorous hand claps and placed on two empty bins, cut off one end and gave me - 'Eat-eat, Raphael, chew your kiss in the meantime' - and dug into the meat of the bread for forgiveness deep. First with his fingers and then with his Tunbar, his broad chisel. Then, with great care and regular order, he filled the space created by the bread with flakes of salty cheese, slices of fresh tomato, halves of garlic cloves, which he removed from their skins with the touch of a hammer for its incomparable delicacy, with black olives and in the leaves of parsley, which grew in every available place in his yard. On top of all this he poured half a glass of green oil brought to him by his friend Ibrahim, one Arab Hajar, a carver from Abu Gush.
"He wrapped the full loaf of bread in thin wax paper, twisted and sealed the ends with rubber bands and placed it under the wooden board, on which he sits all day and chews. This is how the real work of preparing the sandwich began. Under the weight of Uncle Avraham's body, the bread and its contents were crushed together, the tomato juices mixed in In the saltiness of the cheese, they thickened with the olive oil and the fragrant vapors of the parsley and garlic and penetrated into every gap and space in the bread.
"At noon, when I came to visit him on my return from school, Uncle Avraham announced: 'The meal is ready,' and he got up with a sigh from his wooden board"
(in his home in the desert)
"... From that day, father started eating his sausage at the murderer's house, and she, for her part, also added cut vegetables, slices of white bread, beer and mustard, watched him as he ate, had casual conversations with him, which interfere with the counting of chewing and the secretion of our friend saliva, And they determine the time of swallowing according to the syntax and the content, and not according to the type of starches.
"And one day she said to him: 'The sausages I make are better than the sausages you buy.'"
'Let me taste,'
said father.
, she said, 'but the smell of the filling still remains in the palm of my hand'"
(Fontanella)
"Aphtasia forever".
Ruthie Russo says goodbye
A Romanian kebab slicing sandwich
from crushed lamb in the
mammoth Ephraim's father's cake
❤️
I will continue to fantasize about these things forever
Meir Shalu 1948-2023
— Ruthie Rousso (@ruthlessrousso) April 11, 2023
"When she finally allowed herself one weekly corruption - a glass of Dramboi liqueur on Friday evening, after cooking and before the meal, and sometimes her favorite delicacy, on Saturday morning - a real anchovy fish
. To prepare such a fish, she really liked the taste of the anchovy.
In our childhood, she did not buy it because it was more expensive than we could afford, and in its place she brought an anchovy substitute in a yellow tin tube with a red cap from the consumer of the housing.
She spread a thin layer on a thin slice of bread, and on top of that she placed thin, almost transparent slices of tomato, and before taking a bite she said to us with inflated and amused importance: "Anshua", to say: we, the musicians who eat sliodka, the sons of the peasants, are now tasting a real anchovy in the court of a king France, please be careful, children, not to soil your silk jackets and muslin collars.
"Now, when she could buy a real anchovy for herself, she would eat it with black coffee and a slice of challah, and enjoy it, as she said, 'like thirty pigs,' but wait, it's not as good as that substitute, because she didn't say 'Anshua' about it."
(it was like this)
"Do you remember this procedure, of being hosted on a cheese ball? So here in our colony it still continues.
"If there is anything worse than Pekanem it is a cheese ball, and worse than it are several cheese balls - one pepper flavored and one sesame flavored and one paprika flavored and one basil flavored , the worst.
Cazus without, verda, a reason for war"
(Two Bears)
"And father baked all night, and woke Ephraim at seven, and showed him a cake that wasn't pretty at all, the size of a tire, and about the same color...
" Rachel's mother with strudel in a pan, and Yael's mother with candied tortons.
Micah's mother with a fragrant baklava, Yossi's mother with a yeast cake and Danny's mother with a hill of marzipan.
And everyone looked at Ephraim's father, with a hat and a cake that took up half the table.
"The kindergarten teacher took a knife and started tasting... then she came to father's cake and looked curiously. It was very unpleasant. She almost broke the knife. 'Just a minute,' father said, 'I slice my cake by myself.'" A knife is
only Touched, a chocolate coating came out and twenty strawberries immediately rose from the middle of the cake.
He pressed on the margin.
Sweet filling from there jumped.
Then across he cut, and pink cream poured over him.
From the front and from the side, a sugar lily suddenly bloomed"
(Father is ashamed)
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